


The Demon’s Snitch

by DualDreamer



Series: Blob [1]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Demons, Demon Jack, Non-consensual licking, only slight/implied rhack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:22:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25072306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DualDreamer/pseuds/DualDreamer
Summary: Rhys wasn’t surprised to end up in hell. What he didn't expect was getting roped into doing the dirty work for a demon.
Relationships: Handsome Jack & Rhys (Borderlands), Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Series: Blob [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968310
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	The Demon’s Snitch

**Author's Note:**

> A prequel one-shot to my other work, “The Tragic Tale of Timothy Lawrence”
> 
> Taking a closer look at Jack’s relationship with Rhys before the demon got captured and imprisoned.

He was late.

Unsurprising, but no less infuriating. Hours after the agreed upon time Rhys was sick of waiting but if he bailed now the meeting would neither be over nor postponed - he would just get tracked down later and punished. Knowing that made the ghost stay put. Just like the good, obedient mutt Jack wanted him to be…

 _“They always taste better with a healthy dose of fear and respect”_ is what he liked to tell Rhys and he had no reason not to believe him. The man, no, the _demon_ , was an expert on the matter after all. Rhys shuddered. Another reason why he was here, alone. He stopped bringing along “friends” for protection when it became clear that Jack just saw them as an invitation to snack. They had never really been any effective means of help but right now he missed the privilege of not being alone in this god forsaken place that was dripping and rotting with gross fluids until the nutcase who declared it their hideout returned. If Rhys wasn’t already dead he would fear for the state of his lungs. It was utter nonsense but he swore it felt like all the mold here could still pollute his precious human soul. He grasped his shirt just above where his heart had been, where it normally would have beaten and fluttered in fear. It no longer did but life was a bitch and didn’t spare him from being scared, it just showed in different ways now. A storm was brewing, clouding and filling his insides with electric tension, anticipating the big bang, the first raindrop to hit.

And eventually it came, in the form of a wet tongue dragging up the back of his neck. He gasped, reeling from the shock but a dark voice chuckled and two hands grabbed him from behind, one squeezing his shoulder, the other securing his arm. Rhys wanted to hit himself: The slithery bastard had managed to sneak up on him again.

“So. How’s it going, popsicle?” Another quick lick sent a ripple through his body and Rhys hoped it was mostly from disgust... but a shameful, sick part of him knew better. The danger was all present, inevitable, something he resigned and got used to. It only added to the thrill. He even caught himself deflating when Jack made a slight retching noise.

“Ugh. Salty. Kinda losing ya flavour, kid. You know what that means, tick tock. Please don’t tell me you wasted all your time with sulking while I was gone.” The pressure on his arm increased - a warning. “I’d hate to deny you your fix.”

For someone who constantly made other people wait, Jack was very impatient. And Rhys had disappointed him the last three times, pleading for more time, more chances to get what the other wanted, had to use all his tricks and aces to appease the demonic temper. Time was running out, in more than one sense.

"No, of course not", he mumbled. “I got what you asked for.”

“Good boy.” The grip eased up and all of a sudden Jack slung an arm around him as if they were the best of friends but his tactical mood swings didn’t fool Rhys anymore. This was just a snake waiting to strangle his poor fragile neck when he least expected it, regardless of how jovial the other appeared to be. “C’mon, gimme, gimme. The faster you give daddy his sugar, the sooner you’ll get yours, pumpkin.”

Rhys sighed and leaned in to whisper the information that he stole, bought and bitterly paid for into his ear. Jack’s grin widened and kept growing bigger. By the end of it he looked terrifying. Too many teeth, sharp and pointed, lips stretched far beyond the humanly possible. With glassy eyes the demon stared into the distance, no doubt scheming and dreaming of the atrocities he planned to commit with his new knowledge... before he turned back towards Rhys, training that predatory gaze on him now. He instinctively shrunk under it.

“Well, well, well… I think it’s time for your reward, Rhysie.”

There it was again. A storm brewing under his skin, the stupid flutter of excitement and anticipation. Rhys tried not to let on just how desperate he was for this. If he offered Jack the tiniest hint that he could get some entertainment out of this by prolonging the transfer, he definitely would. The asshole got off on seeing him squirm like a fish on land, begging for water. His fingers clenched into a fist while Jack gave him a calculating once-over. He took his sweet time patting down his pants and jacket for the item in question, making a show of rifling through his pockets, and Rhys watched him with bated breath. Contemplating, Jack tapped his chin.

“You know… I’m still not sure if you earned this, Rhys.”

The noise that escaped him at that was unholy and too fast to cut it off completely.

_The audacity. The gall!_

After everything Rhys just told him. He became frantic and even though he had his best business smile plastered on his face, it lacked conviction.

“I did everything you wanted, you… you can’t...!” His voice broke at that point and he had to clear his throat with a nervous chuckle. “Please, Jack. You know I need it. I-... I can’t wait any longer.”

Jack began to circle around him, Rhys following him with his eyes, sweat rolling down his temples. He eventually lost sight of him but he could still picture the taunting smirk, hear it in his voice.

“Wonder what your friends would say if you knew what a snake you really are… almost as bad as me.”

“You… you made me do this!”

“But you didn’t fight it, did ya, kid? I just had to say I have a cure and you jumped at the opportunity. Didn’t even have to bash in your pretty little face, you were ready to serve. _‘Yes, sir, no, sir. Oh please, pleeease, save me, Handsome Jack.’_ You’d have sold me your firstborn if I asked.”

Rhys cringed at the horrible imitation of himself.

“And don’t tell me you don’t enjoy it.”

Suddenly Jack was close, so terribly close again, puffing a gust of warm air against his ear. “I’ve seen how you’re strutting around town… raising your head high. You think you’re hot shit - because Rhys Strongfork knows more, knows _better_ than the idiots around him. Because you manipulate and lie and get away with it.

But newsflash, baby: you’re not as good as you think you are. You’re still nothing more than a brat who’s following orders.” Jack tapped his nose. “Got it?”

Rhys spent a moment in silence, his nostrils flaring. The patronising touch itched but he couldn’t scrub it away, not yet. _Don’t show weakness._ _Don’t lash out. Not yet._

“I understand.”

Jack gave him a dry look. “Do you now… great that I don’t have to repeat myself. I hate wasting my time.”

_Then why did you just lecture me, asshole?_

But then the demon sighed and from who knows where he pulled out a flickering blue light, wiping all concerns from Rhys’ mind. It was beautiful. Ethereal. So cold in appearance and yet it radiated warmth, a familiar pull that was drawing him in. Rhys was instinctively leaning closer but Jack tightened his grip on it and a zap went through his body. Just like that the moment was sullied and Rhys stood straighter, impatiently glaring at Jack who seemed completely serious for the first time of this entire meeting. With a stone cold face, he gave the object in his hand another firm squeeze. Rhys managed not to flinch this time.

“You need me, sweetcheeks. Don’t you ever forget that.”

A last warning and he finally handed it over, or more precisely dumped it on the ground. Rhys immediately scrambled down to his knees, throwing all appearances out the window. He didn’t care how desperate he looked and he didn’t notice how hard he was shaking until he held the shimmering source of light in his hands, the tremble in them giving him trouble to see what it was. Metal, he realised. A smooth surface with intricate carvings. Now that he held it, the light dimmed down and it turned out to be a tiny, round medallion on a chain. Corny, yet just on the right side of sentimental. Just how he remembered himself. 

He looked up but Jack was already gone without a trace. It was hit or miss with him if he decided to stick around for this part. Good. Rhys preferred to open it alone even if the other probably knew what was inside. Or maybe he did not. Jack rarely bothered to pay more attention to human affairs than he had to.

Since the coast was seemingly clear, he took one last deep breath and dug his nail into the golden latch, pushing it open. There was a picture inside. People he no longer recognised, friends, family… loved ones? He wasn’t sure. But he could feel the memories crawling through his head, something was resonating with him. Rhys could feel it coming back. A wave was rolling in, a big one. He stumbled to his feet, suddenly eager to find a safer place. If he was lucky enough to relive a few moments from his life, he didn’t want it to happen in this dump. But the high came fast and overtook his senses until it drowned out everything else.

Rhys dropped to his side, a loopy smile on his face that slowly contorted into confusion, pain… and finally horror.

* * *

He woke up hours, maybe days later. Who could keep track of time in the afterlife, especially after blacking out? The sky was the same greenish yellow as always. But he did feel a little refreshed. And stronger. His mission was a success.

Whoever thought dying would free you from the fight for survival was dead wrong. The afterlife was a nightmare: His soul was slowly crumbling apart and a fucking demon made him into his errand boy. A shitty job he couldn’t get away from which provided Jack with plenty of blackmail material to keep him in line. And all he got out of it - aside from corrupting slightly slower - were some condescending pats on the cheek. Sometimes not even the ones in the face.

He was Jack’s pawn, just another one of many sacrificable pieces. At least that was how Jack saw him. But Rhys had hope, he knew how quickly the tides could change. Under the right conditions, he could flip the whole board over and start a new game, if he just got rid of his “king”.

He just had to play nice, milk the demon and his influence for all he was worth. After all, Jack wouldn’t be around forever… Sooner or later, he would slip up. He was greedy, and ambitious. Insatiable in his hunger for power. A guy like him was bound to piss off someone higher in the food chain. And then Rhys would be free from this pest.

A small smirk curled his lips as he brushed off his clothes to leave.

It was only a matter of time. And Rhys was a patient man.


End file.
